


Stranger Aftermaths

by kaijucade



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath, Post-Season/Series 01, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijucade/pseuds/kaijucade
Summary: A series of vignettes // Nancy, Mike, Will, Joyce, Jonathan, and Eleven are lost in thoughts.





	1. Stranger Aftermaths

She wondered if people noticed how often she wandered off in her thoughts these days. Nancy remembered before this past November, before those monstrous revelations, she had been a focused individual. Her friends, and even Steve, had become used to her intense trances, usually over school books or recent personal favorites, _Winter’s Tale_ and _The Anubis Gates_. She was analytical, she was striving, she was blessed.

  
And now she was almost always frightened.

  
Nancy was capable of hiding it, though. When she zoned out at the sight of Barb’s empty desk, she had a quick answer for Steve’s gentle nudge and concerned tone. At the dinner table, when Mike had to call her name five times, she was able to joke the incident out of their minds. She was better with him now. She’d come so close to losing everything, she had to…

  
Focus. Never mind that her mother was pushing colleges on her. She had always had plans and dream boards and endless sessions with school counselors. But maybe it didn’t matter so much now. Never mind that Steve had given her a ring from a Cracker Jack box. That was quintessential Steve – a kind gesture wrapped up in a silly, cheap, extremely sweet mood ring. She wondered briefly if he meant it to mean something more, something more than just a puppy love potentially throw-away trinket, but then his hands were sliding softly up the back of her sweater and his lips were trailing different promises down her neck and—

  
There were still things that went bump in the night. There had to be. Monsters didn’t just slink back beneath beds. They didn’t retreat into the forest forever. She had to be ready. They all did. Her brother and his friends, they were so young-sometimes she felt like her insides would collapse from the frantic thudding of her heart, just like that horrid movie she had seen months before she had hooked up with Steve and his friends, and he had been impressed that she wasn’t too scared to watch a movie like _The Thing_.

  
Life wasn’t a movie. She and Steve and Jonathan, they had scraped by in that house. She had been lucky, far luckier than Barb. It didn’t seem fair or just or right.

  
Life should be simpler. She wanted to declare her love for Steve in some silly, sweet, teenage way, when the timing was right. But she found her gaze focusing on Jonathan, and on the way Steve would casually high five him now, would chat with him sometimes between classes, friendly and genuine. She found herself lingering on the sight of Jonathan studying in the library, of the way he hugged his little brother, a firm, desperate hold with a gentle brush over Will’s hair to make it less scary, less obvious.

  
She loved Steve Harrington, the idiot and the savior, the whole package. She was scared of how she might love Jonathan, the loner and the stalwart, at the same time, too.

  
Sometimes, she’d see Steve brush a hand down Jonathan’s back, and her focus would wander.

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Mike saw her everywhere. In his basement, of course. Sometimes, after the boys had left their D &D session, he’d hear a thump, a pizza box falling that had been placed precariously on the table, the house just settling and groaning as the weather got colder, but still, he’d race down there, heart thundering, hoping.

  
His mind played tricks. He’d be laughing at Dustin and Lucas as they argued over who was more badass, Ripley or Leia, while Will leaned to the side, smiling weakly, and Mike would become distracted, by the sight of a torn pink dress and blue plaid jacket and precariously placed wig slipping around the corner of the school building. He’d trot away from the boys, dart around the side of the building, nothing. And he’d have to laugh it off, say he thought he had seen the rather chubby squirrel with a missing tail they had dubbed Gimli well before anything strange and terrible had happened to them, and the boys would believe him. Except maybe Will.

  
She was in his dreams. Sometimes she was screaming. Not always in fear. Sometimes it was that terrible, assured shriek, the one she gave right before she… disappeared. Sometimes, it was just the sad, gentle way she said goodbye to him.

  
Mostly his dreams left him flailing awake, not always remembering the dreams clearly, but a frozen wave of dread would fill him up, and he’d lay awake until his mom, or more often these days, Nancy, would come in to make sure he was getting ready for school. Sometimes, it would take Nancy stroking the slick hair off his forehead to make him really wake up, and he’d smile as brightly as he could at her, and try to forget the dreams.

  
But Mike couldn’t forget her. She was everywhere and she was nowhere in Hawkins. Last week, they had been playing in the woods, new fallen snow covering the ground, so that it was almost like they were the first boys, the first knights, to ever set foot in that sacred forest. But he had seen tracks, small ones, as if from a young girl’s bare feet. Lucas had scoffed and pulled him away, and Mike had really looked at Lucas’s pleading eyes and followed.

  
He wouldn’t forget her. Maybe she needed saving, maybe she was waiting for the right time to come back. He’d be ready, he’d be watching.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
Will didn’t dream anymore. He didn’t – _coldfrozenshortshallowbreaths don’tletithearyoudon’tlookdon’t_ – think he could. During the day, he focused on every little thing, studied hard, fought well with his boys, exhausted his thoughts but – _itwasrightthererightaroundthecorner itwasintheairinthescrapsof foulplantmatterhefailedtonoteat itwasinhisthroathislungshisnerveendingshisspinehis_ – it was never enough. He couldn’t not look when the Vale was lifted, abruptly, resolutely, sharply, a slap across his vision. He could smell that place, taste it on the back of his tongue, something churning in his stomach.

  
He wanted to tell someone, anyone, but he was sick of scaring them, he – _someonewas screaming itwashimitwasalittlegirllikehim butnotlikehim hereyesweredarkflames shewasscreamingathimto_ – just wanted to sleep.


	2. Stranger Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vignette of sorts Part Two // Jonathan, Joyce, and Eleven are lost in thoughts.

He had so much to apologize for. He still felt waves of pure shame when he sighted Nancy through his camera. Although now she was smiling, at him, for him, fully aware of him. He had so much to take the blame for. All the shoves and slaps and ignored “buck up, kid, I’m just messing” jibes from his father. Sure, he always positioned himself in front of Will, he always assured Will that Lonnie was full of shit, but he hadn’t done enough. Still hadn’t done enough. He had so many shameful thoughts in his mind these days. Things he shouldn’t be focusing on. Everything was different now, stranger, less safe, and he wanted to—

He just wanted to watch Steve talking. The jaw he had slugged, the eye he had blackened, the stupid hair that was stupidly perfect, perfect for Steve. Steve. He didn’t hold grudges, did he? He learned and apologized and expressed and fucking spoke up about what was important!

Jonathan swallowed, realizing Nancy had been speaking to him in the hallway at school, but Steve was bounding toward them, energetic, alive, veritably bubbly Steve. He wanted to take Nancy, no, both of them, “I want to take you guys to see the new—”, Steve wanted both of them. Jonathan coughed, covering his mouth, when Steve slapped a hand on his shoulder and lingered it there.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d love to go, with both of you, thanks.” And Nancy was smiling and maybe, maybe this was a new normal. Maybe he was allowed to leave his stress at the door of the cinema for a couple fucking hours. His sweet, lovely, timid, strong mother, his wonderful, sickly, quiet, alive brother, they would be waiting for him, still there for them. This was a day like any other. Everything would go back to normal, and quiet, and still, when he sank into his bed that evening. But maybe he’d have some better memories to dwell on, thanks to Steve and Nancy. Maybe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Joyce Byers needed to sit her sons down. Soon, very soon. Family meeting. Well, sure, she’d been on dates before, or one night stands, away from home that she hoped her sons weren’t really aware of, but those were random, nice, actually forgettable men from town. What she had had with Lonny? That had been puppy love, pure and simple, a man disguised by brash youthful charisma, a swagger and pretty words that had soured into weak, insipid, thrashing anger. She had trapped him, the boys weren’t a good representation of what he was to the world, he didn’t deserve their looks and questions. So. Yes, that was done, and the random men, they hadn’t been around for a while. And Will—Will was safe and whole and had been for the past month. And it was a new year and Joyce, Joyce Byers, housewife and mom of two and retail worker for more than half her life and survivor of a few hells…

She was in love. Pure and simple. Something different this time. Hopper had been over for dinner a few times. Was kind and attentive around and to her boys. Her boys were building a rapport with him. It wasn’t awkward or scary or one night stand-ish at all. She was in love, for Chrissakes’, who’d have thought such a thing last New Year’s?

He’d cup her face in his hand, run his fingers through her hair, kiss her nose and her chin and her ear and her eyelid to make her laugh. Kiss her everywhere else. He’d murmur her name at night, into her neck, holding her like Lonnie or any of the other forgettable men never had.

She opened drawers at his trailer one day, rather unthinkingly, just looking for, damn, she couldn’t remember what. And her picture was there, Hopper and Sarah, Hopper scooping Sarah into a hug, his smile ridiculously large, like his face didn’t know what to do with such happiness, a smile like Joyce wasn’t sure she had ever seen on him this past month.

She slipped the picture back into its drawer. She wiped her tears away.

She resolved to tell him how she felt. Life was too damn short to just… let it slip away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She had a path to walk, so she stuck to it. Every now and then, thawed spongy round food in her path. She would eat it. It reminded her of something sweet, of before. But right now, forever, there was only the dark, and the path, and the keeping of screams and shadows and slick, shuddering fears.

She could remember his face. She remembered all of their faces. Sometimes she came across dead faces. She was holding so much at bay, and yet, more new dead. They had always been dead, they weren’t dead yet, they’d be dead soon.

She couldn’t stop it.

She whispered his name, like a mantra, like a word she didn’t understand, but clung to like a ratty old stuffed spotted kitty.

_Will Will Will._

Every now and then, in that dark forever, she came across a part of him, his smell, his laugh, his whispered “Promise.”

And she’d retreat. To protect him. To keep going. To circle back.

There was the path and the dark and always the screams. And she had to keep going.

This was all she knew.


End file.
